


Low Tide

by yoshizora



Category: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 13:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18638662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshizora/pseuds/yoshizora
Summary: Aegaeon visits the Emperor's children in Gormott.





	Low Tide

**Author's Note:**

> a little pre-canon thing, Mòrag is about 11 or 12 here and Niall is a wee bab
> 
> while my headcanon for teenage morag pins her as aggressive and hot-headed, i like to imagine she was very grim and serious as a young child. kinda like lyanna mormont except with less certainty and a lot less political power lmao

Of the things Mòrag would have expected on an otherwise unassuming morning, a _Blade_ standing over the crib and holding her baby brother was not one of them.

She yells, of course. Launches herself at the unfamiliar Blade with a flurry of promised threats, catching him by surprise. A vicious high kick lands in a soft spot of his gut, and he drops Niall as he grunts in pain. Mòrag swiftly catches her brother before he hits the ground and leaps back, glare trained on the Blade.

Niall happily gurgles in her arms.

“Ah— and you must be—“ the Blade wheezes, doubled over. “… Forgive me, I should have announced my presence…”

He presses his forehead to the ground. And that’s how Mòrag met the second of her father’s Blades.

 

* * *

 

Even on a covert trip to check in on his children, his Majesty is still kept away by one thing or another. Imperial matters. Politics. Mòrag may still be a child, barely at the cusp of her teenage years but she’s keenly aware of the tensions hanging heavy over Gormott thanks to the gossip of the servants and soldiers.

But those are problems that don’t concern children.

Aegaeon fascinates her, really. She’d seen Blades before, always accompanying their Drivers at their sides and sometimes a couple paces behind, but Aegaeon is different. Sort of. He’s there when his Majesty is not, and it doesn’t take Mòrag long to realize that he’s here because her father _can’t_ , because of imperial matters that Niall is too young to understand. Mòrag understands, but it doesn’t matter.

So here’s this Blade in lieu of their father.

Aegaeon likes Niall. Niall didn’t kick him in the gut upon their first meeting, so that’s a plus. He holds Niall with both hands firmly wrapped around his middle like he’s holding a large potato, held out with his arms at a perfect ninety degree angle from his body.

Mòrag waits nearby, watching, feeling the warm grass beneath her fingers.

“His Majesty expresses his deepest regrets that he cannot spend time with you,” he explains. Niall waves his little arms and legs in the air like he’s trying to swim. “Yes, I sympathize with your disappointment… it must be difficult, for someone so little.”

“Are you speaking to me, or to my brother?”

Aegaeon crinkles his brow. “Both?”

“He’s too young to understand. And I’m not _little._ ”

“Oh, but I’m sure he will grow up to be a clever young man… yes, that shall be you! Young Lord Niall,” Aegaeon affectionately says, all but ignoring Mòrag’s protest to being called _little_. “And then, my sword will be yours to wield.”

It feels like a rock’s been tossed about in her stomach. She can recall the exact day when her tutors and instructors and father stopped telling her about the Imperial Blades of their Empire, prized warriors who stand left and right to the throne. They used to tell her about them in preparation for the day when she would resonate them, but there’s no point in that now.

It shouldn’t bother her. It doesn’t. Honest.

“Where is the other one?” she asks. “My father’s other Blade.”

“Brighid?” Aegaeon sits down on the group to place Niall on his lap. “She stays in Mor Ardain to attend to other things in His Majesty’s absence.”

“I see.” But she doesn’t really.

Niall pushes at Aegaeon and clambers off his lap, dragging himself over to Mòrag. She kneels down and allows her brother to clumsily grab her leg. Aegaeon’s disappointment is practically palpable; she shoots him a warning glare before he can try to pick up Niall again.

He seems resigned to this and sits back against a tree, now scrutinizing Mòrag in reciprocation.

“… You remind me of a Blade,” he says, and Mòrag isn’t certain if she wants to ask him what he means by that.

 

* * *

 

His Majesty makes a grand total of one appearance at the villa, heavy shadows beneath his eyes and with more gray hairs than Mòrag remembers he had. He briefly introduces Aegaeon, exchanges a scant few formalities with Mòrag, pats Niall’s head, and prepares to leave again.

“You’re a fine guard to your brother,” he says to Mòrag. “I’m proud of you.”

She straightens her back and allows herself to smile.

Aegaeon smiles as well, and now Mòrag thinks she’s beginning to understand what he’d meant.

 

* * *

 

“What makes Brighid different from you?”

It’s raining today. Niall plays with his toys on the floor, unconcerned by their conversation. The servants are quieter than usual and out of sight, probably determined to leave a good impression while the lord of the villa had left his Blade as his representative. Usually, they’d come to play with her and Niall.

Aegaeon is sprawled on his stomach beside Niall, unsuccessfully trying to get his attention with a small doll. He looks up at Mòrag. “She is… stronger.”

“Strong enough that she doesn’t need to be near my father? That’s unusual amongst Blades.”

“Diligent to your studies, I see,” Aegaeon gravely nods. “Indeed, it goes against a Blade’s very nature to be separated from one’s Driver for an extended period of time. We are at our full strength when we stand side by side. Thus, I go where His Majesty goes.”

“Except for these meetings with the Gormotti Council,” Mòrag points out.

“Erk—”

“But Brighid isn’t like that.”

“No,” he agrees. “Even I am no match for her power.”

Mòrag contemplates this in quiet thought. In all her years growing up in the palace, she’d never actually _met_ the Jewels of Mor Ardain. Caught glimpses of them, certainly, but her days were a strictly organized whirlwind of lessons and lectures and training that left her little time to dwell upon the Blades that would have someday been hers.

Now, it feels like she has too much free time on her hands. Aegaeon’s visit is the most exciting thing that’d happened in months, aside from one minor incident where Niall had tried to eat a small bug.

“Did she not want to come here?”

“Lady Mòrag.” Aegaeon tries to appear stern, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s still shaking the doll at Niall in his futile attempts to earn his attention. “… Are you unsatisfied with my company?”

She makes a face. How can she not? Aegaeon’s not quite what she’d pictured when she thought of the two heirloom Blades of the Imperial family. Just as she’s about to give him some half-hearted reassurance, Niall brings his fists to his chin and begins to bawl. Aegaeon drops the doll and frantically tries petting his head.

“O-Oh no, what have I done…?! There, there—”

“Stop that,” Mòrag slaps his hands away and picks up her brother. Almost immediately, he calms down with a few stuttering hiccups. “You’ve never been around children. I can tell.”

Aegaeon hangs his head. “Perhaps… I should leave…”

“It’s fine.”

“Ah, beneath that hard exterior is a heart of gold… I am in your debt, Lady Mòrag.”

He keeps _saying_ things like that, and Mòrag has no idea how to respond. She sets Niall down on the ground and he crawls back to his toys.

 

* * *

 

Another Titan ship arrives, smaller than the one His Majesty had traveled by but still imposing nonetheless. Mòrag watches from the window as Brighid briskly walks across the bridge to greet the Emperor, flames stark against the soft greenery of Gormott’s landscape.

She’s… beautifully frightening. Mòrag rests her chin on her hands, trying to imagine what they’re talking about. Aegaeon knocks on the open door but she doesn’t turn around.

“We’ll be returning to Mor Ardain, tonight,” he says after a moment, when Mòrag doesn’t respond. “His Majesty apologizes for leaving under such short notice.”

“It must be important, right? I understand.” If _Brighid_ is here it must be. Even from the villa, she can see the tension in her father’s shoulders as Brighid speaks to him. Idly, she thinks about the gossip among the servants and soldiers, and the way the local Gormotti whisper in the market. Things are changing. She can sense it in the air.

Aegaeon hesitates. “He will be sending for you and Niall soon, as well. Things are still uncertain.”

Ah, well, they couldn’t have lived in Gormott forever. Her brother is to be Emperor, after all. She finally tears her eyes away from the window when Aegaeon steps up beside her; he offers a thin smile, and rests a hand on her shoulder.

“I enjoyed my visit, nevertheless. This is the first time I was able to spend time with His Majesty’s children.”

“Will you write about it, so you don’t forget?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t keep a journal.”

_Then what’s the point?_ She bites her tongue and turns her gaze back down. Just as she does, Brighid’s head tilts up— and she swears she’s looking directly at her, and in a moment of childish reflex, Mòrag gasps and ducks beneath the windowsill. Aegaeon heartily chuckles.

“She does have that effect on most people.”

But why does Brighid have volumes of journals kept under lock and key in the royal archives, while Aegaeon chooses not to write? Don’t his memories matter as well? Someday, Niall will resonate with them and Aegaeon won’t remember the days he visited the Emperor’s children in Gormott. It bothers her, but half her mind is still trying to catch up with her racing heart. When she peeks out the window again, Brighid and the Emperor are no longer there. Maybe they’d gone inside.

“… I think I might start keeping a journal, too,” Mòrag says.

“Will you read its entries to me, when I am young Niall’s Blade?”

“Probably not.”

Aegaeon laughs and pats her on the head.


End file.
